


In My Mind

by BansheeLydia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Laura Hale, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asexual Character, F/F, Model Erica, Omega Erica Reyes, Post Hale Fire, art class, mild sexual references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 22:57:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4455719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BansheeLydia/pseuds/BansheeLydia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>written for the Teen Wolf Femslash Bingo. </p>
<p>'The first thing Laura noticed was the drop dead gorgeousness of the woman.</p>
<p>The second thing she noticed was that she was a werewolf.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	In My Mind

**Author's Note:**

> kirasmalydia.tumblr.com/tagged/teen wolf femslash bingo
> 
> *A minor character in this makes a derogatory sexual remark towards a female character. there is also references towards implied abuse/oppression towards an asexual character*

The building was a squat, ugly thing. The bricks were painted white, faded and peeling; dirt showed that it hadn’t been washed in a while. Graffiti stained one wall and one window was broken and boarded up. 

It sat in a pool of concrete and tarmac, the parking lot was large, sprawling out until it reached chain link fence. On the other side of the fence was a new industrial block, all shiny new buildings and freshly built roads, but no occupants just yet. On the left, a thick wedge of trees blocking off the side road from the main road. 

It wasn’t exactly...picturesque. 

It was quiet, sure, but the washed out grey of the surroundings didn’t exactly lift Laura Hale’s mood. 

Part of her wanted to just turn, climb back into her car, and drive away. In all honesty, there wasn’t anything _making_ her go in and do this. She _could_ just go. 

She thought of the look on Derek’s face if he found out she hadn’t attended the class and sighed. There wasn’t anything making her go...except her little brother’s judgement.

***

_“Look at this.”_

_Laura chewed on her mouthful of cereal and looked over Derek’s shoulder. He was pointing at a page in the newspaper._

_“Window cleaner available?” she read. “Der, if you think the windows are dirty, I can clean them. We don’t need to fork out for someone else.”_

_He gave her a flat look. “No, underneath.”_

_She peered at the tiny advert, tucked between one for a wedding dress for sale and the opening times for a new salon. It was for a free art class, at a new community building on the outskirts of town. It was starting with a life drawing class, free to community members._

_“Okay...?” Laura said. “Go for it.”_

_Derek shook his head. “No, I mean for you.”_

_Laura frowned, looking at him. Art was Derek’s thing, not hers; he was always sketching. He had a real talent, one she wished he’d show more, maybe commission, but she also knew why he didn’t. Derek was reclusive, something she, Cora and Derek’s mate, Stiles, were all trying to help him deal with. Laura, though? She’d never even touched a paintbrush in her life._

_“Why?”_

_“I just think it might be good for you,” he shrugged. “You used to do all sorts, Laura. Soccer, debate club.”_

_Laura looked down into her coffee. That was true, but that was back in high school, back when she had a group of friends and the time to do those kind of things. Back when she didn’t have the kind of responsibility she did now._

_“You dropped out of college,” Derek said quietly._

_She hated the guilt in his voice. Even a decade later, it still affected him; he still carried the weight of what happened on his shoulders. The fire hadn’t been his fault. Laura didn’t know how she could get that to sink in. Stiles helped a lot, she knew that, but it killed her that Derek still blamed himself, even now._

_“You go to work,” Derek said, “And you come home. And that’s all.”_

_Laura sighed. “I’m the alpha, Derek. I have a responsibility to my pack.”_

_“That doesn’t mean you can’t do some things for yourself, Laura. Maybe art classes might not be your thing, but it’s a start. I just...want things to be better.”_

_Laura sighed. She knew she’d kind of stepped back into her shell since the fire, since the Alpha power had passed onto her. She’d been nineteen and suddenly had the responsibility of looking after her pack; taking care of a heartbroken, guilty sixteen year old and traumatized twelve year old._

_It had been hard. Things were getting better, slowly. They had an apartment. Derek was even looking at moving out with Stiles, not that Laura wanted to see him go. Cora would finish college soon. But she knew she should start getting out more, like Derek said. She hadn’t been on a date in close to two years. She had friends, from work. She had her pack. But maybe it was time to start doing more things for herself._

_“Cora?” she asked, glancing at her youngest sibling._

_She looked up from her laptop, lifting her shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t care.”_

_From Cora, that was pretty much a declaration of, “Go for it!”. Laura sighed, draining the rest of her coffee._

_“Art, though?” she said._

_“I think it sounds great,” Stiles piped up, heading into the kitchen and pressing a big kiss to Derek’s lips._

_Her brother gave a soft little smile and Laura rolled her eyes at the both of them, trying to hide her own smile._

_“Okay,” she caved. “I’ll give it a go.”_

*** 

It was a dull, overcast day and as Laura finally locked up, the skies opened and rain poured down. She jogged, gravel crunching under her boots, and pushed open the glass fronted door. A little bell chimed and a few gazes swung to her as she closed the door behind her, wiping her feet on the mat. 

She was in a tiny reception like area; a couple of people were sat in the old, battered chairs by the window. A redheaded woman sat behind a desk, watching Laura as rain dripped off her coat. Laura cleared her throat and took it off, hanging it up on a stand next to the door, giving a sigh of relief when the warmth of washed over her bare arms. 

“Hi,” she said. “I’m here for the art class?” she glanced at the clock. “I think I’m a little late.” 

The woman smiled and it turned a stern, age lined face warm and welcoming. “No problem, hon. I don’t blame you in this weather. It’s just down the corridor and to the right.” 

Laura thanked her and headed down the hallway. There were pieces on the walls, various bits of art, labelled underneath with who had done them. Some were really good, others didn’t really appeal to her. She paused at one; a beautiful painting of a house. Her old house, standing in all its glory with a backdrop of trees; restored to its former beauty instead of the burnt, destroyed shell it was now. 

Pushing back the feelings that choked her at the sight of it, she glanced down at the label. _Derek Hale_ stared back. 

_Derek?_ Laura hadn’t even known he attended classes. He’d never told her. But then...maybe she’d never _asked_. 

He must have known she’d seen it. Maybe he wanted something for them to share. She didn’t really know, but she was proud of him. She was glad he had this. Glad he had an outlet for the guilt, for the pain. 

She took a deep breath and moved on, entering the door to the right. She was late and it looked like she was the last one there; the room was small but airy, with the white painted walls and large windows. It wasn’t exactly a view, looking out over the parking lot with the rain thundering down, but the spacious feel of it was kind of comforting, as was the soft sound of the rain on the roof. 

There was a circle of chairs around the room; ten altogether. Six had an occupant, all of whom looked at her as she walked in, wet boots squeaking on the floor. A small, round woman with pink cheeks and a halo of blonde curls stood in the middle of the circle, long skirt sweeping the floor as she turned to look at the newcomer. 

“Hi there,” she greeted with a bright smile that unnerved Laura a little. 

“Hi,” she replied quietly. “I’m Laura Hale? I signed up for the class online...” 

She heard the murmur from the others at her surname. She was used to it; she heard it at work, saw the look in the eyes of customers as she served them. She heard it when she went to the store, or filled up her gas tank. A decade later and people still talked about the Hales. About the tragedy. It wasn’t exactly a surprise; in a town as small and boring as Beacon Hills, the fire was still the biggest thing to happen in a long time. And considering they’d kept to themselves after the fire, she knew there were plenty of questions and rumours about them. She’d stopped caring a long time ago. 

“Of course, of course,” the woman. “I’m Audrianne. Take a seat.” 

Laura did, gratefully. Once she’d settled into her seat, the attention was taken off her, and she relaxed a little. 

“Okay, guys,” Audrianne said. “Our model will be through in just a moment. Like I said, don’t worry about technique just yet, or about being perfect. Just draw and at the end, we’ll compare and discuss, okay?” 

There was a rippling murmur of agreement and Audrianne smiled. She set a stool in the middle of the circle. Laura noticed the others getting out sketchbooks and pencils and bit her lip, feeling like an idiot for not thinking to borrow some of Derek’s supplies to bring with her. 

“Um,” she said and Audrianne looked over. 

She smiled and grabbed a spare sketchbook and tin of art pencils from a shelf, handing them to the werewolf. “You can keep these.” 

Laura blinked. “Really? I...” 

“Don’t worry about it, lovely.” 

She still planned to pay her back at the end of the class, but she fell quiet when she caught a middle aged guy across the room glaring at her for disturbing the peace of the room. Laura struggled and succeeded in not rolling her eyes and flipped open the book, barely able to surpress the urge to tap her pencil against the crisp, blank paper. 

Looking around, she noted that she was one of the younger in the room. There were four men, all middle aged, and three women including her; one of the other two looked about forty, the other looked younger than Laura, maybe in her early twenties. Laura watched as Audrianne took a seat with her own sketchpad. 

Another door on the other side of the room - presumably leading to a dressing room or something - opened, and Laura watched as the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen walked out. 

It was the drop dead gorgeousness of the woman that Laura first noticed. She was probably around Laura’s age, tall, slightly tan and slim, with long, long legs and long blonde hair. Warm brown eyes met Laura’s as she approached the stool. She was dressed in only a silky black robe, but she was wearing make up, completed with a coat of red lipstick. 

The second thing Laura noticed was that she was a werewolf. 

Laura knew there were other werewolves in Beacon Hills, omegas who had never approached her about becoming part of her pack. She’d only encountered one, a curly haired boy, in the preserve once. She didn’t know the names of the others; she’d left them be, just as they’d left her be. 

The woman dropped the robe and sat down on the stool, entirely naked. She shifted until she was comfortable in a pose, curls trailing down her back, and the stench of arousal hit Laura. 

She wrinkled her nose, trying not to gag on it. It filled the room, clogged up her nostrils and throat, coming from a few of the other people in the class looking at the model. Laura flexed her fingers, trying to ignore it, but she couldn’t help but feel almost annoyed. That they were looking at this woman like she was a piece of meat, lusting over her when they were supposed to be looking at her objectively, drawing her. 

She knew the model had to be able to smell it too, but she didn’t look annoyed, like Laura would have, or upset. Her expression was a sort of soft, wistful expression, ready to be drawn. 

Laura took a deep breath – regretted it when she got a big lungful of the scent of lust – and looked down at her sketchbook, trying to concentrate. The soft sound of pencil gliding over paper and the quiet pitter patter of rain was a nice background noise and Laura focused on that instead of the heartbeats and breathing around her. 

When ten minutes passed and she realized she hadn’t actually drawn anything, she frowned and looked up at the model. She hadn’t moved and Laura was kind of impressed; she didn’t know how anyone could hold a pose for so long without needing to move. 

Whisky eyes met hers and Laura blinked, caught off guard by the sudden attention of the model. After a moment, she offered a smile, and it was returned. 

Tension leaving her shoulders, Laura finally put pencil to paper. She didn’t really know what to do; she’d never taken art as an elective at high school, never taken a class in her life. She didn’t know anything about techniques or shading or anything like that. So she just drew, trying to mimic the gentle slope of the model’s shoulder onto the paper. She did her best, but there was no way she could copy the warmth of Erica’s gaze. She couldn’t capture the beauty in the soft well of her breast, or the gentle curl in her hair, or the poetry of her lips and the birthmark beneath her hip. She couldn’t copy the way she smelled; like wildness and earth and forest under the scent of woman and musky, dark perfume. 

It felt like the room had gone still, until a soft _thud thud thud_ reached her ears. The model’s heartbeat; slightly fast. Exhilarated. And she was watching Laura.  
Laura’s own heartbeat was slightly fast and she tried to focus on the drawing. She didn’t know how much time passed, but then Audrianne stood and called a break. 

Under her breath, the model muttered, “Thank fuck, I need to pee.” 

She tried to hide her laugh, packing away her pencils. She snapped her sketchbook closed and stood, followed the others to a table along the wall where they could get tea and coffee and biscuits. Laura went through the motions, pouring herself a cup of coffee and adding four sugars. 

“ _Nice_ , huh?” the guy next to her, slightly overweight with iron gray hair at his temples, nudged his friend. “Wouldn’t mind bending her over that stool, if ya get what I mean.” 

Laura gripped the spoon in her hand so tight, the plastic snapped in half. Several gazes flew to her and she cleared her throat, quickly tossing the spoon in the trash and moving on. 

Yes. Okay. The model was gorgeous. But it was the depth to her eyes, the story in her lips, the strength of her shoulders and spine, the confidence told in the hard line of her jaw and the smirk she wore that had captured Laura’s attention. And these sleazebags just wanted to fuck her. Like she was a fucking... _plaything_ for them. 

“I’m used to it.” 

Laura looked behind her, meeting the model’s gaze. “You shouldn’t have to be.” 

The blonde shrugged. “It happens. I don’t really care. It’s just the pervy fantasies of some greasy, fat asshole who probably couldn’t even get it up anyway.” 

Laura admired the steel in her. She turned to face her; the model had put the robe back on, tight securely at her waist, giving her modesty. This close, Laura could smell the candyfloss scent of her lipstick, could see the slight smudge of eyeliner under one eye. She smiled, showing straight white teeth. 

“Besides, if he tried to lay a hand on me, I’d break every bone in his hand.” 

Laura believed it, too. She smiled back. 

“I’m Erica,” the other werewolf greeted. “You’re the alpha.” 

“Yeah.” 

They fell into silence and Laura almost kicked herself. ‘ _Yeah_ ’. Great small talk. Erica’s stomach rumbled and Laura reacted on instinct, grabbing a couple of biscuits and holding them out. 

The omega laughed at that, taking them. She bit into one and winked, “Thanks, alpha.” 

Laura’s wolf rumbled happily at that, the content feeling of having provided. She smiled back, a wide, genuine one, and Erica gazed at her for a long moment. 

“It’s still shit,” Laura said. “I almost choked on the stink.” 

Erica smiled. “The pay off is worth it.” 

“The money?” 

She shook her head. “You’re always going to get the ones looking at you like you’re there to be perved at. But there are also the ones who look at you as you are: a model. They look at you for their art. Seeing the art, seeing how they’ve drawn or painted me, it’s worth it.” 

Laura looked at her for a moment and she got it; Erica was like a piece of art herself. But she didn’t think it was a narcissistic thing. She didn’t seem _vain_ , exactly. 

“Is that why you do it?” 

Erica laughed. “Kind of. I’ve always loved art. I’ve always wanted my career to be in art...I realized fairly quick that I can’t draw for shit, though. None of my stuff was good enough to become a serious artist. So I found a way to at least contribute.” 

Laura sipped her coffee. “I can’t draw, either.” 

She tilted her head, smiling. “Show me?” 

“Um...no. No way. I really am terrible. I’m only here because my brother told me I need to get out more.” 

Erica laughed at that, but they were interrupted by Audrianne calling them back to the circle. Erica offered a wink and walked off. 

Laura drained her coffee, tossed the cup away and sat down, picking up her sketchbook. The next hour passed quietly. There was another break for Erica to stretch her legs, get a drink and use the bathroom, but Laura didn’t approach her again. She didn’t know if it was a good idea. 

She could tell that Erica was interested. With werewolves, it was hard to hide it. Laura could scent her emotions. But Laura hadn’t dated in a while; she’d given up on the idea. 

She’d had three partners in the past. All of them had known from the start she was asexual. All of them had acted like it wasn’t a big deal; all of them had got upset when, months into the relationship, she didn’t have sex with them. Like they thought they could change her mind. Like it was a _choice_. They thought her sexuality would just change if they persuaded her and it...it was like a violation, this feeling of pressure, like she _had_ to, and the guilt that she didn’t want to. 

It was Derek who had told her that it wasn’t a choice. That she shouldn’t feel guilty; that she deserved someone who didn’t try and change her or pressure her. 

So, after the third relationship fell apart, she’d given up. 

When the class ended, she thanked Audrianne, giving her money for the sketchbook and pencils, and tucked them away in her bag. She spoke to Audrianne for a while, reassuring her that she probably would be back. Maybe it wasn’t being good at art that mattered; it was the act of going out and doing something for herself. It was enjoying it, getting some time to just do what she wanted to, that counted. 

She was the last to leave and as she headed out of the building, zipping up her jacket, she saw Erica leaning against the wall. She paused, meeting her gaze. 

“Will you be here next week?” Erica asked. 

Laura nodded. “Sure,” she replied softly. “Probably.” 

Erica nodded, quiet for a moment. “Can I see?” 

She paused, unsure, but decided, _screw it_. The worst Erica could do was laugh. She tugged her sketchbook out of her bag and opened it to the first page. 

The drawing of Erica took up the page and Laura knew it wasn’t good; there was no technique, no proper shading. The lines were roughly drawn and lopsided. Erica studied it for a long moment, then nodded. 

“I’ve seen worse,” she offered. 

Laura snorted. “Come on. It’s terrible.” 

Erica grinned. “Yeah, okay, it really is.” 

They shared a laugh and Laura couldn’t find it in her to be embarrassed, not with Erica’s gaze on her, looking at her like that. Maybe she was being naive and too hopeful, but she felt like Erica wouldn’t be like the others. She felt like...maybe this was worth a shot. 

After a moment, Laura tore out the page and turned it over. Finding a pencil, she quickly scribbled her number on the back, then held it out. 

Erica took it, a smile on her face, and Laura couldn’t hold back her own grin as their gazes met. 

**Author's Note:**

> kirasmalydia.tumblr.com - come say hello? :)


End file.
